Pirelli
by thisRANDOMperson
Summary: Parody. Neither Sweeney nor Anthony sing of their dearest Johanna. I wrote this when I was thirteen, alright? Also: Obama fans may or may not be offended, depending on his/her sense of humor. R&R.


**Why hello there! Another musical parody. :D**

**Hahaha, well, here we go. I've been longing to do this because it's the first parody I ever thought of, but I kept forgetting to type it up! So, here it is, and now I have to recommend the **_**other**_** parodies I wrote… No Place like Texas, The Worst Bras in London, Hot Boys, and They All Deserve to Live. Do read them, please! XD**

**I don't own Sweeney Todd. I promise. I'll buy him for Christmas, though 8D**

**Enjoy!!**

Silence hung in the damp air in London at midnight. No voices were heard; only footsteps, coming to the end of the street. The dim lights shone in the person's face, revealing a young woman – whoa, whoa, back up just a second! That's a _man!!!_ – walking down the street, eyes searching for movement. He was looking for his love, and he didn't know where to look.

"I feel you, Pirelli…" Anthony Hope sang into the darkness, but no answer came. He had seen Pirelli walk into Sweeney's shop after he told him the news of Johanna, and it was, indeed, love at first sight. Now, he was looking for him, singing softly in the streets. "I feel you. Do they think that walls can hide you? Even now I'm at your window. I am in the dark beside you –"

"Hey, lady! Shut your trap!!" a man screamed from his window, and Anthony coughed and lowered his voice. "…buried sweetly in your black hair, Pirelli…" Somewhere, a few streets away, a man was singing of the same person.

"And are you beautiful and pale, with black hair, like me?" Sweeney Todd sang as he lathered another customer. "I'd want you beautiful and pale, the way I've dreamed you are, Pirelli…" He mindlessly sunk the razor into the man's throat, and he gasped and choked, and Sweeney pressed the pedal, watching him as he slid down the chair and into the bakehouse.

"And if you're beautiful, what then, with black hair, like me?" He led another customer into the shop and sat him on the chair and began to lather him. "I think we shall not meet again, my little boy, my sweet Pirelli…" The man in the chair looked up. "Oh my goodness! You just called me a Pirelli. I'm pressing charges." Sweeney backed away. "No! Please! I have vengeance to find first! I don't _like_ prison!!" He squeezed the razor, and fell silent. "…Oh." He stabbed the man and sent him into the bakehouse.

"Goodbye, Pirelli! You're gone, and yet you're mine!" He stared in the sky, which was full of clouds, and he felt downcast. He slowly began to cut himself with the razor. "I'm fine, Pirelli! I'M FINE!!! AHH! IT HURTS _SO GOOD!_" Anthony, somewhere far away in Mexico, sang as well. "Pirelli…"

A beggar woman, who was _actually_ Sweeney's poorly-treated wife, was staring at the shop from the street. "Smoke! Smoke! Sign of the devil! Sign of the devil! CITY ON FAAYYY-AAHHHH!!" That was her way of saying fire. Some random citizen who didn't know her at all grabbed a brick and smashed her head with it. "The name's Obama, bitch." She sat up and flattened her dress, and cleared her throat. She noticed Ms. Lovett walking back outside with a fresh batch of pies. "Witch! Witch! Smell it, sir! An evil smell!" The beggar grabbed Ms. Lovett and shoved her into Obama, who enjoyed the scent. "Mmmm, Ms. Lovett! You smell like a Democrat… I like that!" Ms. Lovett giggled and walked away, and the beggar continued singing. "Every night at the Vesper's Bell! Smoke that comes from the mouth of hell! CITY ON FAAYYY-AAHHHH!! CITY ON FAAYYY-AAHHHH!! Mischief!" She then pointed at Obama. "Mischief! _Mischief!!!_" Obama grabbed the brick and smashed her head yet again. The beggar didn't shut up. "He's stealing my money, my freedom – and _now_ he's stealing my soul!!"

Sweeney led another customer to the demonic chair. "And though I'll never hear your voice, my only son, my dear…"

"DEER! What kind 'o deer, sonny Jim?" the redneck customer asked. Sweeney lowered his head. "Everyone is so mean to me… My _name_ is not Jim!!"

"Yes it is…" Sweeney snarled and slit the man's throat on the spot, sending him into a place that looked hellish. "Like I was saying to myself, _ahem…_ I still have reason to rejoice the way ahead is clear! Pirelli!"

Another man walked in and sat down. Sweeney ignored him and continued singing. "And in the darkness when I'm blind with what I can't forget…" The customer jumped out of the chair. "You're _blind,_ and you were about to give me a shave?! What is _wrong_ with you?!!"

Sweeney's feelings were hurt. "No need to snap. And no, I'm not blind, so get back in the damn chair so I can slit your throat and send you into the bakehouse so Ms. Lovett can make you into a meat pie, just like all my other helpless victims!!" The man let out a sob as he headed back to the chair. "Everyone is so _pushy_ these days!" Sweeney coughed and sang again. "It's always morning in my mind, my little cow, my rat, Pirelli!" The customer looked up. "Dude, did you just call your son a cow _and_ a rat?"

Sweeney laughed. "Heh, yeah. He's a horse, too."

"Oh my God!" the man screamed. "It's even _worse_ than the ManBearPig! It's a CowRatHorse!! NOOO!!!" Sweeney sank the razor into his throat while singing. "You stay, Pirelli, the way I dream you are! Oh, look, Pirelli! A star…" Sweeney wasn't even looking out the window, so he couldn't tell. He was psychic. "A shooting star!" He turned and looked, and indeed, a smiling star waved at him, and he waved back. But the star didn't disappear – it crashed into a cheeseburger stand, and Sweeney snarled, flipping it off. "Well fuck you, star! Cheeseburgers are the closest thing on Earth to Jesus, and you need to respect that!!"

The beggar watched him from the window. "There! There! Somebody, somebody, look up there! Didn't I tell you? Smell that air! CITY ON FAAYYY-AAHHHH!!!!" Obama smashed her with the brick again and munched on a destroyed cheeseburger. "Oh my goodness! It's like an edible Jesus." He took another bite. "Hell yes…"

"Quick, sir! Run and tell! Warn 'em all of the witch's spell! There it is, there it is, the unholy smell! Tell it to the Beadle and police as well. Tell 'em! Tell 'em! Help! Fiend! CITY ON FAAYYY-AAHHH!! CITY ON FAAYYY -!" Obama hit her again. "Shut up unless you're eating a cheeseburger! And I don't _need_ to tell the police. I'm the president!!" The beggar stared at the man in the window again. "Mischief! Mischief! Cheeseburgers!!"

Sweeney slowly slid the razor through another man's neck. "And though I'll think of you I guess, until the day I die…" Some freaky fangirl ran into the shop. "That will be in about two days, actually!" She ran out, and Sweeney swallowed. "Aw, shit… After the day after tomorrow, I won't think about you anymore… I think I miss you less and less as every day goes by, Pirelli!" The dead man suddenly awoke. "If you miss him less and less, then you are a complete asshole." Sweeney yelled and cut his throat again, and sent him into the bakehouse. "Dammit." He heard a knock at his door. "Come in, please! Come in…_so I can kill you._" He smiled wickedly, and a man with a wife and child walked in. Sweeney didn't feel all too happy anymore… "Well, then. Hello, there." The man sat down, and Sweeney actually shaved the man instead of killing him. "And you'll be beautiful and pale and look too much like me… If only angels could prevail, we'd be the way we were, Pirelli!" The man looked up. "Did you just call me a Pirelli? Asshole… Do you even _know_ what a Pirelli _is??_" Sweeney snarled. "No, I don't! Is it a private joke or something??!"

"Maybe, maybe not…" The man grinned evilly and walked towards his family. "Oh, my dearest wife! Look at this man! Isn't he such a Pirelli?"

"Oh my! Yes, dear, he is!" The family laughed at him, and Sweeney twitched. "WHAT THE HELL IS A PIRELLI ALREADY?!" But the family walked out. Soon, another man came in. "Hello, sir, and how are you to-"

_"I'M NOT A PIRELLI!!!"_ Sweeney screamed, and the man nodded. "Okay, sure…" He sat down, and Sweeney took out his razor. "Wake up, Pirelli! Another bright, red day!" The man stared at him. "Man, you might actually be a Pirelli. It's not red outside." Sweeney cut the man's throat. "Damned customers… I'll close up now. We learn, Pirelli, to say…"

"Hello there, the angel from my nightmare, the –" Mark the singer busted in, but Sweeney kicked him away. "This is _not_ a Blink-182 concert!!" He cleared his throat. "…Goodbye."

Suddenly, the scene went back to Anthony, who snarled. "What the hell was that?! You left me out!!"

Sweeney appeared. He was holding the camera now. "Yeah, well, no one mourns the wicked!" Anthony stared. "What?!"

"Anthony, you see…." Sweeney put a hand on his shoulder. "Those tests came in today, and I just happened to see the results… I am so sorry, Anthony. You have herpes."

"What? NOOOO!!!!!!" Anthony cried and ran away. Sweeney sighed. "Hey, you're not the only one… Lucy had crabs. No shame, really…"

**XDDDDDDD THE END!! Lol. Yeah, pretty much, a Pirelli is an insult obviously, I guess it means some fag. So, if you want to call someone a fag, just call them a Pirelli then, especially if they haven't seen Sweeney Todd, because then they'll be really confused! Lol. Thanks for reading :)**


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